You Had Me At 'Hello'
by crackers4jenn
Summary: Kelly, Jim, and Ryan. Plus coffee.


From the shooting script for the season 2 Office episode 'The Carpet', there was this Kelly and Jim exchange about Ryan:

Kelly: _Say I'm up for anything, but I'm not a slut, but who knows._

Jim: _Maybe you should talk to him._

Kelly: _Jim, no, you have to, please please please, ask him--_

Jim: _Maybe if we all went down for coffee together--_

AND THUS A FIC WAS BORN.

Title: You Had Me At 'Hello'  
Summary: Kelly, Jim, and Ryan. Plus coffee.

It started out as a good 'deed' (shady in the definition area of things) which is probably why, approximately thirty seconds into said good deed, it ended up backfiring.

If Jim had listened to his instincts on the elevator ride down--no, upon initial interaction, the very _first_ conversation--he wouldn't be where he was. Stuck. Feeling mild levels of awkwardness. Definitely uncomfortable. And they'd only been sitting down for, ohh, seven minutes? If that?

"What do you think about Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise?" Kelly asks with little to absolutely no segue on the subject. Jim _does_ have to give it to her, though: she's toned down the loquacity a little. A lot. And mostly the conversation has flowed freely, lacking in all the gossip of Tinsel Town.

Ryan shrugs. He's doomed. "They're okay." So, _so_ doomed.

"JUST okay!? They're like the King and Queen of America, except for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Brad and Angelina are TOTALLY the real royalty, which is weird, don't you think, that we don't have castles and dragons and princesses? I would be so much more patriotic if we had princesses."

Ryan looks at Jim. Yeah, man. Sorry. Should've warned ya. But instead of bailing him out or getting Kelly sidetracked off the princess spiel, Jim just smiles over his cup of coffee. What? Like you wouldn't too? Besides, this is high-quality entertainment. It's like a mid-afternoon refresher's course on last night's Entertainment Tonight. Beautiful.

"This one time, when I was like eighteen or nineteen, I dressed up as Snow White for Halloween. It was SO adorable, you seriously should've seen me, I was on _fire_. I had this same haircut, but I made it all cute like she has it in the movie. Not the first half, ew, no! The second half, after she meets Prince Charming and they fall in love. And, oh my god, Ryan, you should've seen the dress I wore! It was short and flirty, not slutty, but not, like, frumpy and gross either, it was just the right mix: it said, _hello, world, I am sassy and awesome!_"

Would laughing be inappropriate? I mean, would anyone even _notice_ if Jim scored this soundtrack with a couple well-placed rib-cracking guffaws?

"Sounds like a good Halloween," Ryan tries, oh-so-valiantly, to cut in. Vain, vain attempt. It's like watching a man drown. No exaggeration. You kind of want to throw him a lifeline, but, at the same time, you also want to see if that circling, so very huge great white shark is going to launch an attack from below.

"It was the BEST!" This, actually, is where Jim is introduced to the high-pitched sound of a 'squee' for the first time. Heard about them. Just _never_ knew they _really_ existed. "I loved it so so so so so much."

Again, Ryan looks over for help. That belief, probably born from the fraternity floor up, that men must band together whenever there's a girl who's just a little _too_, eh, _eccentric_, maybe, is that the right word? Or, I don't know, insane? Anyway, it's a look and a belief that Jim is deftly, purposely not noticing. He can see, though, in Ryan's eyes that revenge is being plotted, possible retaliation attacks. And normally that in itself would warrant and propel a helpful response from Jim but, seriously, what's Ryan going to do? File Jim's papers incorrectly? Not get Michael a tall order of fast food? Whatever, man.

"Well, what do you do for fun?" Kelly, ever the one-sided conversationalist, barrels on. It feels good to not be on the receiving end of it, it really does. "I know it's Scranton, so pretty much _fun_ doesn't exist here, which is like the lamest thing in the world, but, hey, what are the things you like to do? Bowling, partying, going to clubs, listening to music, Youtube, the movies, hanging out with your crew, being super close to your family--"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"All of the above."

"Really?! Me too!"

"Oh. Really? Neat."

Jim feels like he's eavesdropping on a conversation that, even from a distance, would make him feel uneasy and a little embarrassed. Like that one traumatic childhood moment that _really_ screws you up, where you hear your parents _going at it_. C'mon, fess up. It happened to you, too. Home from school, closed bedroom doors, all sorts of moaning and groaning going on. Like Animal Planet on surround sound.

And _that_ is just wrong.

He starts to push back his chair, ready to bolt in a manly, more than dignified fashion, because, seriously, right now going back upstairs and having teeth pulled would be better than this. Sitting in Michael's office and listening to Michael talk about, yeah, _anything_. That'd be better. This whole thing has lost its appeal. Now it's just borderline depressing.

So, with just the right amount of gosh-darn earnest apology and faux disappointment, he says, "Gee, would you look at that. 12:43. Man, is it that late already? I should probably go--"

"No!" It's Ryan, of course. Panicked, of course. "I mean. You should stay." He winces, because Kelly's looking at him weird, and that came out all weird. He repeats, "You should stay," like maybe it'll be more calm the second time around, but, no. The same. High-pitched and kind of 'scared for my life'.

There's a camera filming this (and for once Jim _gets it_, because this? This is stuff America wants to see) and Jim takes the opportunity to give it the ol' wide-eyed look of _What do I do here?_, because in the many, many months that the documentary crew has been around, he's begun to see them--the cameras--as non-vocal, sympathetic almost-people. Sometimes he catches one of the cameramen (Dave, mostly, the wise-ass) smiling from way back there behind the lens, but mostly he forgets that the supposed audience, the _imaginary_ audience, is not actually _real_.

He stops where he is, just freezes in that locked position that is half-sitting, all parts ready-to-stand. Death will follow soon, hopefully. Or, hey, maybe Roy and Pam will join them? Make things THAT much more fun and interesting? "_Okay_."

"Okay," Ryan agrees.

Kelly sips at her coffee in that delicate-looking way people do in the movies. Ryan looks anywhere but at her. Jim frowns and frowns and tries to find his friends inside the camera to share his pain.

"So." Ryan makes a face. Fidgets. Outstanding.

Kelly smiles, big and scary.

Oh, this is some tenth level of Hell, for sure.

"What are your exact opinions of Britney Spears? Like, _exact_?"

"Okay," Jim says, in a way that could probably be broken down and translated as, _Are either of you people clinically insane?_ He stands, even though Ryan starts freaking again. There is no amount of anything in the world that would make this even remotely worth it, unless Pam was here because she would _get_ it, you know? She would. Besides, maybe if he heads back up now he can get a few minutes of work in. "I need to go. Wow, that time is just _not_ slowing down today. Papers. Work. Yikes. That sort of thing. I should go."

"You really don't have--"

"Okay, Jim! See you in a sec! Bye! Thanks!"

"No problem," he says, in a way that is ironic and therefore lost on Kelly, but Ryan catches it. Ryan is actually--oh, how cute, is that a glare? Jim just smiles and accepts the challenge.

Now that he's heading _AWAY_ from the crazy he can see the bright side of things again. Which is why he laughs to himself on the elevator ride up. At least the experience wasn't a _total_ bust: he now knew how to deploy the talky-bomb that was Kelly. Just lead it to a safe, uncrowded area where mass quantities of dirt-flavored coffee is served, unleash it in the presence of Ryan Howard and... zap.

Silence.

Unless you just so happened to be the Temp. But there's only of those, so. Who cares?


End file.
